Skin and Bones
by elfieberry
Summary: Puck is messed up, broken, and just one phone call changes all of that. Kurt is only a little lost, but manages to fix Puck while simultaneously fixing himself. Puck/Kurt, language, lemons, oneshot.


It was early in the morning, when the shrill of his phone's ringtone woke him from his deep slumber. Forcing his eyes open, Kurt reached for his phone on the nightstand by his bed and answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?" he croaked, rubbing his eyes from sleep and focusing on the ceiling of his bedroom.

"Kurt? Kurt, it's Finn. Look, I know it's early, but we need your help. You're the only one that can help him—he's like, nuts. He drinks all the time and he never eats, and I'm sure this is his third pass around the female population of Lima . . . not to mention his third time out of jail for assault and battery."

Kurt blinked and took in a lazy breath. "Finn, who the hell are you talking about?" he asked, confused at Finn's rambling.

"Puck," Finn answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Kurt was still confused. Puck had teased and tormented all through high school. And even though Puck had been his friend before that, the tormenting almost outweighed the beauty of their childhood friendship. Why was he the only one that could help?

"Finn, that doesn't make any sense," Kurt murmured, closing his eyes and nearly giving in to the beckoning call of sleep when Finn said,

"Yeah, it does. He's been in love with you since we were, like, seven."

Kurt's eyes flashed open and he sat up in his bed. "What the hell are you talking about, Finn? This is Noah Puckerman we're talking about. Are you pranking me? Look, I know I liked you in high school, but I'm over that now—"

"What? No. Puck's crazy, like, he might—might hurt himself if he doesn't get help. You weren't here, but Puck's mom died. And Allie—they took her away because of Noah's track record with juvie and jail and he doesn't know—"

"Are you with him now?"

"Yeah, he just downed a whole bottle of pain killers and a bottle of jack. I didn't know what was going on, but then he was throwing up all over the place and the first person I thought to call was you—"

Kurt was panicking now. He jumped up from his bed, pulling his suitcase out from underneath his bed. "What? Call an ambulance, Finn! He could die!"

Finn clicked off without saying anything else and Kurt threw his phone on the bed before going to his closet, pulling random clothes and stuffing it all haphazardly into the case. His heart was racing as he picked up his phone again, dialing the airport to charge an emergency plane ticket to his credit card.

S&B

Finn was waiting at the airport for Kurt as he carried his solitary suitcase rolled behind him, skittering across the linoleum floors. Finn looked absolutely terrible; heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes and he could see the tremors running through the other man.

"Hey, Kurt," Finn said, his voice lazy and, his eyes sparkling just a bit with seeing his little brother for the first time in two years.

"Hi, Finn." The two shared a momentary hug before Kurt swiped angrily at his eyes, brushing away the tears that formed. He hadn't even noticed he was crying, crying over a reckless man who seemed—from what Finn had said—to be in love with him. It couldn't be true. Sure, Kurt had hung on to just a little bit of hope ever since that first kiss. . .

Finn kept his arms around Kurt's shoulders as they walked back to his car, an old looking clunker that Kurt admired. It didn't matter that he had a posh car sitting in the garage—a birthday gift from Kurt—he still drove his high school sweetheart.

"How is he?" Kurt asked hesitantly, trembling at the thought of Noah in fatal harm. He may have been skeptical about the jock and his feelings were mixed and complex, but he still cared deeply about him. After all, he had changed for Kurt, protected him his senior year from slushies and dumpster dives, and worst of all, Karofsky's sexual advances towards him. He never once thought that it was because the jock was in love with him. Not once. Of course, Noah was handsome in a rugged way, and Kurt had many a fantasy about the other boy, but he didn't romantically like him. Not as strongly as he had in middle school at least. And maybe, still there was kind of a burning sort of feeling inside of him, like all of his romantic feelings for Puck were waking up.

Finn, he was adorable in a puppy like way, cute—the kind of boy Kurt thought he wanted. Now, three years later, he had a slew of men of all kinds knocking on his door, wanting into his bed and more importantly—his heart. No, Kurt hadn't fallen in love.

It was easy to pick a man to sleep with now, living in New York where your differences were unique and beautiful, where being gay wasn't something to be ashamed of. So there were countless lays, some Kurt looked back on with a slight admiration, others he'd forced himself to forget. Who would have thought Kurt's first time with a boy would be at a drunken house party full of horny college students? Kurt wasn't proud of it, wasn't proud that he couldn't look back on his first time and think about the boy that had taken his most precious gift. The sad thing was Kurt couldn't even remember the boy's name.

"He's hanging in there. The doctors suck at Lima. I called the ambulance, but they were sort of busy or whatever and they told me to stick him in a cold shower and make him drink tons of water until they could get there. I—he's still drunk. He was released after they pumped his stomach but he's still trashed. Well, he sort of drank himself back into drunk."

Kurt frowned. This town pissed him off—it was no wonder why Kurt high-tailed his ass as soon as he graduated.

Swallowing thickly, Kurt climbed into the car as Finn did and looked over at his step-brother. "I'll—just take me to him, and I'll take care of everything."

S&B

Kurt was appalled as he walked over the threshold of the apartment Noah owned. It was an absolute mess. There was garbage and clothes and he was sure that was a dead animal in the corner. He looked around, making a list of things Noah needed as well as what to clean, surveying everything as he walked through, stepping over the litter as he made his way to the back, where Noah's bedroom was surely located.

He was sprawled on the bed in a way only a man could do. He was shirtless, wearing only jeans, and even then, they hung dangerously low on his toned hips, the button popped open and the zipper only about halfway done. The room, a stark contrast to the rest of the apartment, was immaculate, as if no one lived there at all. But there was Noah, eye wide open, but far away, dazed, as if he wasn't really here at all.

". . . Noah?" Kurt whispered tentatively, walking closer to the spaced out man, stopping just shy of the edge of the bed. "Noah, talk to me."

"Who are you?" he asked softly, looking up at Kurt with his still glazed expression. Kurt noticed the bottle of Jack Daniels hanging loosely from his hand, until he pulled it up to his lips, taking a long, hard drink.

"Noah—"

"You look like . . . this boy. I used to know him. He's far away now, being all famous and awesome, but I used to know him."

Kurt was unsure of what Noah was talking about, and blamed it on the fact he hasn't been sober in—so Finn had revealed—three days. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at the broken man, wondering what had gone wrong, where had Noah's confidence disappeared to. What he saw wasn't the Noah Puckerman he knew. It was as if time had reverted and he was watching Noah, the seven year old boy whose father had gone away never to return to their family.

"It didn't matter though. Because I used to be real mean to him. He was so nice, all the time. Even when I got slushied for the first time, he helped me wash it off my head. He was so nice. And he had this pretty face, kind of like a girl's but not . . ."

Kurt didn't interrupt, didn't say anything, just listened as Noah described him, revealed his darkest secrets with the help of the alcoholic truth serum.

Noah's eyes glistened and Kurt observed, watching as Noah relayed his tale, unbeknownst that he was admitting everything he'd thought of Kurt right to his face.

"And I was mean. He was nice, and I was an asshole, and so he left because of this kid that threatened him. He doesn't know, but I beat the shit out of that fucker who forced him to leave the goddamn school. Fuck. And then he went and joined that stupid Garglers and he was with that kid, the short hobbit one, and I just lost it. I lost everything. Sometimes, I think, maybe, if I had been nice, if I had been his friend, then maybe he wouldn't have been with the stupid hobbit, and he'd have been with me. Being badass gets old after a while, you know?"

Kurt held his breath, wanting so badly to run away and not listen to Noah, not listen to the adamant admission of falling in love with him.

"I thought; maybe, when he came back that I could, like, have a chance. But he was still with the goddamn hobbit singer, and so I just—I was nice. I never let anyone touch him. I never missed a day of senior year, just to make sure that he was safe from the stupid fucking bullies that would make his life hell. They say that, like, you pick on the people you like. Well, I fucking—I picked on him because I was mad at him for a while, mad at him that he was so perfect with his dad, and his friends and I was struggling to keep my mom in a house and make sure my sister had food and went to school. Sometimes, sometimes I think about what if I hadn't fallen in love with him. Because that makes me kind of gay, right? Loving a dude? Wanting to be with him? Wanting him to look at me with that . . . that look he got when he was happy and content and just . . . perfect? But he left after graduation, and never looked back, so I gave up."

Noah glanced at Kurt, not having realized it was in fact Kurt Hummel himself and just shrugged. "I'm tired."

So, he laid back against the bed and shut his eyes.

Kurt hadn't realized his eyes were wet until a tear striped down his cheek, dripping onto the leg of his jeans.

S&B

_Fuck._

Noah's head was throbbing, his body ached maliciously, and his mouth was so dry he was sure he could spit out sand. He sat up, too fast as bile rose up in his throat. He swallowed it down closed his eyes. Fuck, drinking all those bottles, he couldn't have. He surveyed the floor counting each of them, surprised that they he's passed ten. Twelve bottles of Jack in three days. He was torn between pride for holding his liquor and disgust as he couldn't remember one thing that had happened in the past 72 hours.

He stood up, running his hand over his Mohawk groaning as his body stretched, cracked, and popped.

He walked into the kitchen, pouring a tall glass of cold water, drinking it down and then going for another.

He threw up into the sink, all liquid and clear, the alcohol just coming up until he was dry heaving and his head throbbed worse, protesting the pain. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cursing himself for being absolutely good for nothing—couldn't even kill himself right. Was this all he was worth? Living day to day as a mechanic in a stupid backwater town? Would he ever get over the one thing that ached his heart every day, the one thing that had made him give up on life? He wasn't sure of much anymore, but the ache, the dull pounding in his heart was fervent.

He'd never expected to fall in love with Kurt. It wasn't—it wasn't what he'd planned. But all he knew was his dad had left him, his mother, and his sister, and Kurt's mom had just died. But at that moment, in the playground, as Kurt was impeccably dressed, sitting on the swing, Puck didn't think he'd ever seen something so . . . pretty. But boys weren't supposed to be pretty, and Kurt . . . he was a boy. But seven year old Puck didn't care about that. He walked over to Kurt and sat down beside him, murmuring a soft, "I'm sorry about your mom," looking down at his scuffed shoes, different than Kurt's own, shiny and polished. Kurt looked up at him and his lip quivered. 

_"You're not going to hit me?" Kurt asked. Puck flinched and chanced a glance at Kurt, the blue eyes filled to the brim with clear, bright tears. _

_"No, I'm just sorry your mom died," Puck said softly. He'd never felt so guilty for pushing the smaller boy around, for tormenting him. _

_"Oh. Thank you, Noah." Kurt stood from the swing, and took a look around the empty park, quietly surveying before leaning over and placing a feather-light kiss on Puck's cheek. He stepped back and fumbled with his hands. Puck covered his cheek with his hand and weird feeling flooded his little heart before he smiled at Kurt. _

_"You're really nice, Kurt, even though I'm mean to you." _

_Kurt smiled and shrugged. "Mommy says you have to be nice, even when people are mean to you." He shook his head. "I really miss her." _

_"I miss my dad, too. He left today, and my ma said he ain't coming back." Puck kicked the dirt, angry at his father, despite the overwhelming emotion of feeling abandoned. _

_"Maybe we can share my Dad. He's super nice," Kurt murmured, staring into Puck's deep green irises, almost captivated. _

_"And we can share my Ma. She's nice too. She makes awesome dinner, like, all the time. But we have to share Allie too. She's my baby sister." _

_Kurt brightened and nodded. "I always wanted a baby sister." _

Yep, he had it bad, way too bad. But Kurt was off being famous, a part time writer for a fashion column, and a part time clothing designer. It would be a lie, if Puck wasn't caught up on Kurt's life—the life he'd sought after he'd left Lima. And Puck didn't expect Kurt to look back and miss them, miss him; he'd been a jerk to Kurt their whole high school career, even though it was out of some sick and twisted love he'd felt for the soprano. And still, if he could take it all back, every harmful shove, every slushy, every bad thing he'd even done to the boy, maybe, maybe he wouldn't be alone.

He made his way to his bedroom, in need of sleep that wasn't drug and alcohol induced, just to fall into a subconscious that wouldn't be haunted by his feelings.

But of course, when he opened the door, there was someone tucked snugly underneath the covers, still asleep from the looks of it. He didn't remember sleeping with a girl last night, didn't ever remembering leaving home.

"Get out," he said loud and harsh, and the girl shifted underneath the blankets, throwing off the blankets and revealing long toned legs, polished toenails—electric blue, his favorite—and then as he looked up, realized they were sleeping in boxers, and there was a lack of breasts and that face.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What the hell are you doing in my bed, Hummel?" Puck asked harshly, his stomach threatening to heave again, his heart racing. His skin flushed and he felt hot and dizzy. Puck panicked again; did they sleep together? Is that why Kurt was in his bed, and he was on the couch? How long had he been here?

"Hi, Noah, nice to see you, too," the soprano grumbled, standing up and stretching, before pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans—all of which Puck watched intensely, still feeling sick to his stomach. Kurt seemed to have noticed and rushed over to him, pushing him down on the bed. "Get some rest, Noah, you look absolutely disastrous," he murmured, pulling the blankets up over Puck. "Do you want something to eat? Tea? Water?" he said softly, his previous defensive demeanor gone. Puck wanted to ask him to get back into bed, wanted to hug him and hold him and apologize for everything, but nothing came to his lips and he shut his eyes. Sleep came way too easily, but he was happy, relieved even, to oblige.

S&B

The apartment was trashed and Kurt's emotions were tangles, in a heap of surprise and longing and need and confusion. Noah Puckerman had confessed his love for him, and even though Kurt had housed a schoolboy crush on the other man, it was odd to hear him say it, odd to know that he was loved, even by someone who'd nearly tortured him for most of his high school career. But he couldn't hold that against him forever. Obviously, Noah had changed, and Kurt noticed. It wasn't for the better, but it wasn't bad either. He was so misguided and it hurt to see him like this, bingeing on alcohol until his memory fuzzed into a white noise, until he fought with other men, until he was finally bailed out of jail for assault and battery.

Oh, he was so confused, his feelings towards Noah were expanding; how could he ignore the fact that Noah had loved him for so long? How could he dismiss the other man so completely when he knew for a fact that he could, in time, love him in return?

Aggravated, he threw himself into cleaning. It didn't matter that it was four in the afternoon and he had sketches due at six am. They could wait. He needed to do this, get his hands dirty, occupy himself for a while and not think about Noah and what his love could offer.

Was it wrong that he was already beginning to feel so damn complete? That he felt this . . . _pull_ from the man sleeping so soundly in the next room over? Was it selfish to take pride in the fact that he was the first and only person that Noah Puckerman had ever fallen in love with?

Kurt gathered the clothing littering the floor, throwing it in a defined pile that needed to be thrown in the washer. Grabbing a trash bag, he began to pick up the garbage that littered the floor; old take out containers and pizza boxes, empty and half full bottles of beer and Jack Daniels. He took in a deep breath, returning to the kitchen grabbing the bleach and a sponge and began scrubbing things, doing the dishes, cleaning until all that he could smell was the fumes from all the chemicals he used. He vacuumed the rest of the house, put clothes in the washer, organizing everything until the apartment looked nothing like it had before.

He sat on the couch and, finally, let the tears fall, dripping down his face with fervor until he couldn't anymore, until he curled into a ball, until his chest ached for Noah. He'd never wanted to save someone as badly as he did him. It was unconventional, irrational—_who ever said love was rational in the first place_—and he wanted him. He wanted it, he wanted everything.

It wasn't as if he'd forgotten his childhood with Noah, the time where harsh words didn't exist, where Noah was nice to him, held his hand, and accepted his kisses oh so very easily, not flinching away because he liked boys instead of girls. Noah was Kurt's realization, the turning point where he realized he didn't like girls the way Finn and Artie and Mike did. No, he liked boys like they liked girls and Noah began to push him away. Was it because Noah had felt the same too? They were only kids, middle school really, eleven, twelve, thirteen years old.

And more, Noah had been Kurt's first kiss.

_The room was dark and the storm was raging, thunder drumming and lightning flashing. Noah's mother had gone to California for a funeral, leaving Noah it Kurt's father's care. Noah was on the floor in his sleeping bag, and Kurt was looking up at the ceiling, thinking about sleeping. But as sleep eluded him, he wondered about boys, about why he liked them, about why he didn't like girls like the other boys did. He wondered about the girls he knew, Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Quinn, Santana, and Britney, whether or not he'd kiss them. But then he thought about Finn, and Mike, and Noah, and yes, he decided given the chance, he would kiss them all. _

_"Hey, Kurt?" came a whisper form the floor, startling him out of his thoughts, flooding his cheeks with warmth and utter embarrassment. "Are you awake?"_

_"Yeah," he squeaked, pulling the blankets up to his neck. _

_"I'm—I'm scared." _

_Confused, Kurt reached over and turned on the light, illuminating the small room with a flood of yellow, sitting up on his bed. "Why?" _

_"I don't—don't like thunder. It—I can't sleep," he muttered, hiding his face as he looked down at the floor, rather than meeting his gaze. _

_Kurt hesitated for a second, looking at his bed, then down on the floor. "You can—you can sleep here if you want, that way you won't be scared, Noah," he whispered, bunching his hands in the duvet. _

_Noah bit his lip, but took his pillow, placing it next to Kurt's. He didn't say anything as he climbed into bed with Kurt, lying flat on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He reached, then, to turn out the light._

_It was silent for the longest moment as their heavy breathing was the only thing heard in the room. Thunder crackled ominously over them, and Noah jumped, searching for Kurt's hand underneath the blankets and clutching, Kurt allowing him to hold his hand. _

_"Noah?" Kurt whispered, turning to look at his face, eyes screwed shut. _

_"Yeah?" Noah replied, opening his eyes and locking his vision with the smaller boy's. _

_"Would it be weird if I asked you for a kiss?" Kurt whispered, wishing for a second to take it back, to just turn around and go to sleep. But Noah shook his head, and Kurt bit his lip. _

_"You can, if you want." Noah was looking at Kurt intently, his heart thudding in his chest, anticipating his first kiss. With Kurt. "You know, kiss me?" _

_Kurt nodded, taking in a deep breath before leaning in. They shared a breath, both of them hesitating, until Noah placed his hand on the back of Kurt's head, pulling him down the remaining millimeters it took for their lips to meet. _

_They stay that way, lips pressed together, unsure of what to do, how to move, until Kurt pulled back. No, he sure didn't like girls like he liked boys. Especially, especially this boy. _

_"Are you okay, Kurt?" Noah asked, just a little out of breath. _

_"I think—I think I like boys and not girls," he whispered, hoping Noah wouldn't hear at all._

_"It's okay," Noah comforted, still holding hands with Kurt underneath the blankets. _

But it wasn't okay. Because of that kiss, because of that admission, Noah had picked on him, pushed him around, had forgotten their tryst of friendship. Was it because he was scared? Because he was frightened of liking a boy in return? No, Kurt was never in love with Noah, but it wasn't hard to like him, because underneath the hard, tough exterior he'd spent years building up, he was still that fragile little boy underneath everything, the one who felt abandoned, the one who was scared of thunderstorms, the one who'd given his first kiss away to a boy.

Kurt was frustrated. For some reason, knowing Noah's true feelings was worse than not, that being blind and oblivious was better than this, than feeling the expanding of old feelings.

He knew in an instant that Noah could be two things.

The man he would love forever or the man that would break him beyond repair.

S&B

"Why are you here?" Puck asked again, taking in a deep breath, staving off sleep and vomiting. He'd just finished showering—after Kurt had pushed him in, and was drying himself off with a towel.

"I—uh—Finn called me and said you were—that you needed help," Kurt said, his voice light, but he could hear the worry laced between those words. He stared out of the window to give Noah just a little privacy as he dressed. "Do—do you remember last night?"

"Uh—" He'd been about to answer in the negative when snippets of a conversation entered his mind. He could hear all of the words he'd confessed, every part of falling in love with a boy that didn't look twice at him.

Noah pulled on a pair of boxers and jeans, forgoing the shirt because he knew it was only a matter of time before he fell asleep again. Kurt turned and hungrily took in his appearance, the muscles flexing and rippling under the expanse of golden skin. He subconsciously licked his lips.

It was the way Noah's eye lashes rested against his cheeks, the way there was an almost frantic look on his face. But Kurt reached out, tentatively, hesitantly, as if he would be burned, and took Noah's hand, holding it tightly in his hand. He led them to the bed, Noah lying back while Kurt stayed sat on the edge.

"I—Finn told me, you know. Don't be mad at him, it—it was right of him to tell me something so serious Noah. And you needed help and I want to be able to help you. It's—it's nice to have you love me, Noah." Kurt murmured, lying back next to the taller man, looking at his face, defeated but not scared.

"I didn't know how to tell you. And last night, Kurt I was so messed up. It's hard to love someone who doesn't even fucking look at you. I . . ."

Kurt closed his eyes and sighed, hearing Noah's shallow breathing. "I'm sorry," he whispered, wishing he'd been different, that he would have noticed that Noah loved him, because maybe then, maybe they could have been something.

"I think my pride is getting in the way of letting you help me," Noah said finally, turning onto his side. "This is . . . this is way too confusing. I don't know what to do."

"Noah, look, I didn't expect this, but I don't know, if I can help you, I want to. Even if that means falling in love with you, too, Noah. Don't think I didn't notice you. You were fuel to many late night fantasies," Kurt murmurs, a heated blush crossing his cheeks without abandon.

Noah laughed, but it was tainted with sadness. "What's the use though, Kurt? You'll go back to your life and I'll stay here. We could never—"

"Come with me."

Noah stared at Kurt eyes, a lovely light blue flecked with an emerald green. Beautiful he was, and Noah could see the sincerity in his expression, the longing in his eyes. Kurt's hands were resting on Noah's chest, fingering the warm flesh.

"Why? I'll just get in your way."

Kurt vehemently shook his head. "No you wouldn't, Noah, if you love me like you say you do, you'd clean up and come away with me. We can—we can even find your sister and have her live with us. If—if you want." Kurt's hands were shaking as he reached up, placing one hand on Noah's stubbly cheek, forcing the other man to look at him. "Please, Noah? It hurts to see you like this."

"Kurt, I—I don't do this because of some saint-like obligation." Noah closed his eyes, melting into Kurt's touch, wrapping his arms around the smaller man's waist, pulling closer.

Kurt took a breath and Noah could feel it against the flushed skin of his chest. "I'm doing this because I feel like I have to, Noah. I—I could have stayed in New York. I could have not given a single fuck as to why you're so messed up. I care about you, Noah. You—you were my first friend, and my first kiss, and these things mean the absolute world to me. And I know that, that we could be good Noah, that we could be good together. All you have to do, though, is come with me. Leave this fucking town and be better. I can help you. I—I want to help you."

Noah sighed, closing his eyes. "Fine. Fine, I'll go with you."

"Really?" Kurt asked, incredulous. "I thought—I thought you were going to say no." He'd thought htat he was going to have to work hard to get Noah to believe him, to get Noah to stop thinking so goddamn negatively and go with him, to a place where he could think without be judged, without be suffocated in the small town of narrow-minded people.

"I love you. And if I say no, that won't make you love me back, Kurt."

Kurt smiled and let out a relieved, soft laugh. "It won't be too hard, Noah. I'm almost there."

S&B

Noah had fell asleep as soon as he'd agreed to leave with Kurt, but for Kurt himself, sleep eluded him as much as he tried. He felt safe in Noah's arms, like he had always, and was elated that Noah had agreed to leave with him, to forget his past and just go. He climbed out of bed, careful not to jostle the other man awake, and finished the laundry, packing things for Noah so they'd be ready in just a few days' time. He called for a second flight ticket, and then called Finn so he could tell him what had happened.

"You're taking him with you?" Finn asked, partially confused. "I thought you said you didn't love him?"

"Well, I don't. I mean, not yet. Look, I just—he needs help, Finn. I—this shouldn't have gotten so far out of hand! Where were you? Rachel? Where were Santana and Quinn; everyone? Where were you guys; so much for friends, Finn. I—I had to come all the way from New York to fix him when he should have been broken in the first place!" Kurt nearly screamed, throwing the pair of jeans he'd been folding back down on the sofa.

Finn's voice was rough when he spoke, and Kurt could tell he was mad. "Why are you blaming this on us, Kurt? This happened because you left him—"

"I didn't know! You knew the whole time and you waited three years to tell me, Finn. Three years! This shouldn't have happened. We should have been married by now with kids and a house and a fucking dog named Skip! What if I can't make this better? What if he hates me? Oh, my God, what if he doesn't love me anymore? Finn, what if I fall so in love with him that he can't take it, and he leaves me? What if I can't love him enough? What—"

"Puck doesn't hate you, Kurt," Finn soothed, his voice calmer than before. But Kurt's heart was racing with worry. What if this didn't work?

"He could. You're right. I did this to him. This is my fault. He could—"

"Hummel, get off the goddamn phone with Finn and come back to bed with me," Noah growled from the doorway, stalking over to him.

"I gotta go, Finn." Kurt ended the call and dropped his phone on the sofa before Noah enveloped him into his strong arms, placing a kiss on the top of his head. His large hands splayed over the expanse of Kurt's back, soothing him.

"None of this is your fault, Kurt. I know I messed up, and probably belong in a fucking crazy house—"

"You don't," Kurt insisted gently, hugging Noah tighter.

"—but believe me when I say that _this is not your fault._ I gave up rather than be smart and keep going. I—I'm a dumbass and you shouldn't be crying over someone as fucked up—"

Kurt pulled away from Noah and groaned. "But you don't get it! It's because you love me that this happened. If you still loved Quinn—"

"I _never_ loved her. The only reason I put up with her was because she was carrying my kid. Beth—if I had Beth, none of this would have happened. I wouldn't have tried to end everything if I had my baby girl. Do you know what that did to me, Kurt? I had nightmares for the whole summer after the adoption about how great a life she was going to have without me, how shit of a father I was for fucking letting that ice queen bitch give up my baby to some fucking stranger. I wanted to—I wanted the chance to be a good father. I wanted to be the father I didn't have. And now, some other bastard gets to have her. He's the one that she gets to call _Daddy_. I don't get to have any of that, and that was all I wanted, Kurt."

Kurt was drowning in several emotions, feeling the suffering cause of asphyxiation as he fought off his tears. "You can have her, Noah. If she's what you want, I'll do my damned bed to make sure you get her. But it's going to be hard, especially with your record and the fact that you don't have a job."

Noah sighed, slumping on the couch. "I—I just need to leave, Kurt. Take me with you so I never have to see anyone I know. Where I don't have to—where no one judges me for the fuck up that I am."

Kurt sat by his side and leaned his head on his shoulder. "I will, Noah."

Noah sighed. "You're the only person who cares about me, Kurt. And I can't lose that." He shrugged, slipping his hand into Kurt's and gripping as if the other man would run away.

S&B

The thunder was shaking the glass and it terrified Kurt. He was hiding underneath the blanket, holding his mother's favorite sweater in his arms, just willing sleep to overtake him. With each strike of lightning, Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin. His heart was racing and he felt as though his stomach was in the middle of his throat, lurching to escape. With a small burst of courage, he stood and opened the door to the bedroom padding lightly to the living room, where Puck was asleep, where Noah had insisted on sleeping so as not to make Kurt uncomfortable. They were in a messy situation, and jumping into bed together seemed dangerous. But Kurt stood over him, wondering how he could be so deep into his slumber that the horrifying knocks of thunder didn't startle him awake.

He gently pressed his fingers into Puck's shoulder, shaking him. "Noah? Noah? Noah, wake up," Kurt whispered adamantly, shaking each time he'd pronounced Puck's name into the dark room.

Puck opened his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. "Kurt? Hey—are you crying? What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare? Kurt? Kurt—"

"Oh, my god, Noah, shut up," Kurt hissed, still clutching the sweater in his hands. "I'm scared and I can't sleep, and I thought maybe you could sleep in the bedroom?" Kurt asked, all in a rush because he was embarrassed and scared and he just wanted to be underneath he covers the next time a flash of lightning decided to appear.

"Wait, what?" Puck said, sitting up. "I'm confused." Puck rubbed his eyes and Kurt smiled, feeling drowsy with sleep, but not yet sleepy enough to fall into that kind of unconsciousness.

"Could you just sleep in the room with me, Noah? Please don't make me ask again. It's embarrassing as it is," Kurt murmured, looking down at his bare feet.

"Uh, yeah, sure. I forgot you were scared of thunderstorms," Puck said. He had grown out of it, but Kurt had always been afraid.

His insides burst with emotion and all he could think about was how he was going to be sleeping next to Kurt, lying down underneath the same blanket, on the same bed, in the same tiny space. He wondered, just for a second, if Kurt liked to be spooned. But as much as Puck liked Kurt, he wasn't a snuggler. He didn't hold people after sex, and he surely didn't sleep with other people in his bed. But Kurt—well he was the goddamn exception to everything, so that was pointless to think about.

Puck stood up and took Kurt's hand, leading them to the bedroom. He closed the door behind Kurt and pulled them to the bed, crawling under the covers. Puck faced the opposite of Kurt, lying on his side. But despite the early hour, he was wide awake, thinking about Kurt, and why he was scared, why he was crying, why they would run away from Lima. He turned, facing Kurt, looking over his profile. The room was lit, but only a little, the light of the closet streaming softly throughout the bedroom. Kurt's eyes were closed, his eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks, impossibly long and thick, so dark against the white of his skin. Puck wanted to reach out and trace his skin, memorize every line. He knew he was being a sappy girl, but he quickly realized that with Kurt, he didn't have to put up a front, hide himself behind a title, hide himself behind harsh words and threats. Puck could be Noah, a lost boy in search of what everyone else was looking for. Meaning, love, a sense of belonging. He didn't have to search anymore, he felt, because here, right with Kurt, is exactly where he belonged.

"Why are you scared?" Puck's voice was soft as Kurt continued to feign sleep, hoping not to make Puck uncomfortable and force him out of the bed, or worse, out of his life. He wasn't sure what Puck was asking, though. Why he was scared tonight, or at all?

Kurt couldn't help but notice the gentle tone of his inquiries; couldn't help but shudder as warmth flooded through his body. Here with Puck, it was different. Somehow, lying next to him in this bed, underneath the rage of the blizzard outside calmed him. He turned onto his side, searching for Noah's face in the darkness. Their eyes connected and Kurt could feel the slick warmth of his tears track down the side of his face, soaking the pillow beneath him. Puck reached out, tracing a long calloused finger over Kurt's temple and down his cheek, over his lips. Kurt didn't hesitate to kiss them as they passed. It was a small gesture, but Kurt broke underneath the weight of it all, wretched sobs tearing from his frail body. He clutched to Puck, his strength unnerving and relentless, arms around his neck, bodies pressed together. Puck soothed him, hands splayed across the span of his back, lips whispered sweet words of how he was safe, how nothing could get him, hurt him, how Puck wouldn't _let_ anything touch him _ever_. Kurt felt this overwhelming sense of need to wash away everything that ever happened, to replace it with something new. Kurt pulled back, only slightly. He noticed Puck's eyes, the glossy shine, the moisture glistening across his face. He thought, in that moment, that Puck had never looked more vulnerable, never more beautiful than at that moment.

"Kiss me."

Kurt was surprised that it was Puck who asked for a kiss rather than just taking it and a shock thrilled his body knowing Puck wanted this as bad as he did. What that meant, Kurt didn't know, but as he descended his lips to meet Puck's, he could feel every horrible thing, every worry, ever fear, every goddamned threat to his being fade away. Puck was gentle with Kurt as their lips moved and his body ached to hold him closer and never let go. Not smart, taking advantage of Kurt's immense vulnerability, but he couldn't pretend any longer, couldn't hide under his "badass" persona anymore. He wanted Kurt in whichever way he could get him, and if this kiss was the only way he could have him, so be it.

Sparks flew through his body ad he knew this was love; Kurt was it for him, even if they had yet to begin. _If_ they even begin.

Their lips were feverish against each other's, tears forgotten in the haste to feel skin against fingertips, pulling each other closer.

"Noah."

It was only a whisper, but it was enough to get his heart racing and his body responded to the small moan of his name. He pulled back before he could act on it, before he did something stupid, leaving the other boy panting, slick with a light sheen of sweat, his lips full and parted, sucking shallow breaths.

"Can we—shit, can I—"

"God, yes." Kurt pulled him back, mouths colliding in hot fervor, tongues tasting and mingling, memorizing each other. Yeah, there was a storm outside, but with every kiss, every touch, every whisper drowned it all out.

They undressed quickly, staying within the confines of the warm bed, rocking together, as they found warmth in each other, the rhythm of their hips slow and languorous. Kurt dug his fingernails into Puck's flesh, pulling him closer, willing him to grind harder. He was seeing stars, feeling the hot burn of the other man's cock against his own, heavy and slick with the beading of precome. He'd never wanted to taste someone so badly, but that would have to wait. He wanted this—might have been too fast, but he wanted to feel Puck deep inside of him, hard and slick, wanted to be pounded mercilessly into the downy comfort of the mattress. He just wanted to be with Puck, in all their vulnerable glory, without the stupid barriers of their clothes. Puck was marking up his neck, sucking dark bruises into his porcelain flesh and Kurt loved it, because he knew Puck was claiming territory. He moaned before pulling back.

"I want you inside of me, Noah," he whispered carefully, and Noah did nothing but comply, breaking their kiss to find a box of condoms and a bottle of lube. "I—are you clean?"

Noah nodded. "I get tested a lot. I mean—we can still use a condom if you want," he said softly.

Kurt shook his head. "I want to feel you. All of you."

Puck groaned. "Fuck, okay," he mumbled, crashing their mouths together again, feeling Puck slide his hands down Kurt's body, spreading his legs to accommodate him. Kurt writhed underneath Noah's ministrations, when his fingers circled around his entrance before slowly dipping in, only to slide back out. "Okay?" he asked Kurt, voice strained as he watched the other man's face, masked with pleasure as Noah worked his fingers inside of him. "Is this okay?"

"Yes, yes," Kurt moaned, shifting his hips to taking Noah's fingers deeper, to make them go faster. But he wanted the burn, the slight pain that would come from taking Puck without being stretched so loosely. "Now, Noah. I want you inside of me now."

Puck was shocked at how comfortable Kurt was with sex. He didn't expect him to be a virgin, but he didn't expect this display of wanton desire that had him spiraling, his head spinning as he rolled on a condom over his cock, already hard and leaking, wanting inside of that tight heat. He pushed forward, into Kurt's willing body, feeling the protest of the tight ring of muscle. Kurt curled his legs around Puck's hips, low and lazy, but still holding him in place, letting Puck know that there wasn't one single place he would rather be that right here, underneath his heavy weight, the insisting press of his cock, the less than gentle thrusting inside of him as Noah picked up a slow but sure rhythm that had Kurt sighing his name over and over again.

"Ah, Noah, harder," Kurt moaned, arms wrapped tight around the shoulders of the tanned man, holding him flush against his body. Puck's arms were on either side of Kurt's head, resting on his elbows, his weight covering Kurt as he pushed deep inside, licking and sucking at Kurt's neck, tasting that perfect, flawless flesh. It was smooth underneath his tongue, tasted like sweat, but was still sweet like he'd imagined. His thrusting had Kurt crying out with the deepest groans, how and sexy and Puck pushed deeper inside of him, thrust hard as Kurt legs wound tighter around his hips pulling him closer.

"Fuck, Kurt," Noah grunted, Kurt's fingernails dragging down his back, scratching deep. It hurt, but it was a good kind of hurt, the kind that made him feel a little alive.

The sound of the headboard knocking against the wall echoed in the bedroom as well as the sighing creaks of the mattress, mixing with the sound of their sex, the heavy breaths and moans, the less than gentle pleas for Noah to fuck Kurt harder, faster deeper, _please_.

Kurt came first, spilling ribbon after ribbon of come over their chests and stomachs, beckoning for Puck to follow him after, which he did, spilling so very deep inside of him, filling Kurt up to the brim. Puck collapsed on the smaller man, panting; Kurt only tightened his grip around him, arms pulling close, legs unrelenting.

"Thank you," Kurt said, his voice lazy and quiet. "It's kind of a shit thing to say, but damn, I needed that. Needed you."

Puck didn't hesitate to answer, taking Kurt into the strength of his arms, hushing his quiet giggles with a brush of lips, a feather soft kiss on Kurt's swollen lips. "Baby, I've wanted you for a long, long time," he uttered in a whisper, closing his eyes. "You don't even know, Kurt; you don't know how much I love you."

Kurt smiled, wiping his face. "I think I do, though, I really do."

"I just wish I had the fucking balls to tell you before. I would have been able to prevent this and you wouldn't have had to fucking save me or whatever." Puck voice was rough and Kurt could feel the anger tremble through Puck as he forced himself to stay calm. Kurt smiled and looked up at Puck.

"I don't think we were the same, Noah. You wouldn't be here, confessing all of this to me. Do you know what it feels like to be loved so tremendously? Do you know how I feel right now? You love me. You admitted it. Would you really have done that before, in high school? You saw what happened to me, how stupid people can be. Do you really think that would have been any better?" he asked, staring down into Puck's eyes, the stretch of a small smile curling his lips. Puck blinked.

"Yes."

"Liar."

Puck smiled, because he knew Kurt was right. It would have taken him forever to tell Kurt he had feelings for him, let alone a boy. He may have never done it.

Kurt sighed. "It's okay, though, Noah. Sometimes it takes really big things, horrible things, for good things to happen. You loving me? That's a very good thing." He leaned forward and kissed Puck, gently and forgiving, erasing everything that their past had entailed. "We're different people now."

"But you don't love me," Puck mumbled, weaving his fingers through Kurt's hair.

A pang of guilt battered Kurt's heart and his smile faltered. "You're right," he whispered. "But I will. I promise."

They settled into the silence, lightly caressing each other as they kissed, and despite the fact that Kurt's body had endured rough mishandling, Puck's lovely touches erased everything. They were different people now, Noah Puckerman and Kurt Hummel. They were new and fresh and with each touch, they figured out that it was okay. Kurt didn't flinch away from Puck. Hands were held, lips were kissed, ear were whispered into, sweet things that made the world stop and Kurt's heart ache.

When they finally fell asleep, it was early morning and Kurt wasn't sure if he ever wanted to move from the safety of Puck's arms. In fact, he was sure that this was dangerous, that this sort of dependency on a person wasn't healthy. But it was fine. He could depend on Puck because Puck loved him and that was the way it should be.


End file.
